


2. Red

by Whreflections



Series: Shuffle fics [2]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood, Episode s02e10: 18 Miles Out, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:10:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whreflections/pseuds/Whreflections
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of my shuffle meme fics series.  These were supposed to be drabbles, but I don't really do drabbles typically so...some of them are, some of them not so much.  </p><p>While they're fighting at the school, it turns into something far more familiar, and Rick seizes what might be his last chance to get through to Shane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2. Red

**Author's Note:**

> 2\. Red- Taylor Swift
> 
> (the songs in these first ten I'll post all came from my current playlist on grooveshark, cause I was too eager to do this to wait for my Zune to charge and give me many, many more song options, haha)

_Lovin’ him is like drivin’ a new Maserati down a dead end street_

_Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ended so suddenly_

_Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes_

_Tell myself it’s time now_

_Gotta let go_

_But moving on from him is impossible when I still see it all in my head_

_In burnin’ red_

This thing between them, it used to be so easy.  From the first time they ended up in Rick’s bed in the middle of the night to that last morning Rick remember before it all went to shit, the weight of Shane’s body pinning his up against the side of the squad car, all of it, it came to them like breathing, like a natural progression. 

Lori was an ever uncertain thing, a slip of something he tried to hold, tried to keep himself tethered to more and more for Carl’s sake all the time but Shane, Shane was a constant, there from the day he’d watched Rick knock Tyler Carlson on his ass till now.  Thinking it then the memory nearly overwhelmed him, the smell of grass and sharp smack of flesh on his fist as he threw his first real punch, tried to follow through like a man without shaking his hand too much.  Shane, he’d been watching from the crowd, and his shoulder bumped Rick’s as he jostled his way up to get a good look at the kid wiping blood off his mouth on the ground.  They’d all been talking over themselves, all stretching it out into something it wasn’t and he’d said, plain and simple, that he wouldn’t stand back and watch somebody be a bully.  Shane was looking at him, a look he couldn’t quite place, and Rick had wondered later if it had to do with his father and the things they never talked about, about the kind of man that could bring himself to hit his own son.  Maybe it was his daddy or the lawman in Shane coming out early or even the picture Rick made, standing there over a kid they’d all seen terrorize the second graders, but Shane came up to him, took his place at Rick’s side and after, he’d never left. 

Not once, not until all this shit, until the world was ending and every last fucking thing was falling apart and he’d have never, ever thought that could apply even to them.  Outside the camp in Atlanta they’d snuck out into the woods, reacquainted themselves with each other after the longest separation since they’d met, and Shane’s breath was hot against his neck when he buried his face in close, whispering.  _Thought I’d lost you, man.  I thought I’d-_

_I know.  I know.  But we made it, we made it this far.  I know we can do this._

Even then, even when the woods weren’t really safe and he’d kept an ear out even with Shane’s mouth on his cock, even then when he knew life had changed for both of them, he’d have never thought they’d get to here. 

He could feel broken glass on the pavement, an extra bite on top of hot asphalt and his fist had already connected too many times, his knuckles already coated in blood.  Shane jerked beneath him, sharp and quick but still too familiar, too like nights he remembered because his body adjusted without a thought, thighs gripped tight around Shane’s waist to ride the movement out.  Their bodies moved together in defiance of their hands, twisting with perfect muscle memory even though they grappled, even though Shane’s fingers stretched up to find his neck. 

Rick pulled back, grip shifting to tangle his fingers in Shane’s shirt, but before he could use it to shake him, jar him back against the pavement, his hips slid down just a little farther, far enough to line up with Shane’s and feel the insistent press he knew so fucking well.  It bought him a second, Shane’s breath drawn up in a quick gasp as he struggled to keep his focus, and in that time, Rick was able to let go and grab his wrists, pinning them to the pavement.

He could feel the glass even better then, feel the blood as it cut the back of Shane’s hand, the sides of his own fingers.  The last time they’d shared blood like this, Shane had been wounded in the line of duty, slashed by a knife in a bar fight they were breaking up.  He’d cut his own hand trying to block a thrown bar stool but he pressed it to Shane’s shoulder without a care in the world.  He’d tried them to stem the flow, murmured _Come on, brother, let me look at you_ as soft as he could because there, in that setting, it was all he could say; I love you’s always had to wait, wait for solitude and quiet and a place where Shane could roll his eyes and smile but say it back anyway because he always would, he always had. 

Rick could feel the blood run, making his fingers slick, his grip tenuous, and he pushed the advantage. 

“ _Stop_.  Just stop.  Will you-“  He ground his hips down, half for another distraction, half to sate his own rising need.  He certainly wasn’t immune to it either, wasn’t above the heady distraction of having Shane trapped between his legs.  He was too long used to it to have ever managed to extract that part of himself, to stop the way his body craved exactly this, the way he could feel a dull ache in his ass that reminded him he could take Shane in, could ride him just like this and take it well no matter how rough they wanted it to be.   

Shane’s hips jerked and his chest heaved, body almost still but for that, harsh breath and the impatient twitch of his hips.  There was a quiet tension in his arms, a force against Rick’s grip that only equaled the pressure, no longer fighting his hold so much as simply pushing into it.  Rick licked his lips, tasted blood and wondered if he looked half as bad as Shane did.

“You remember somethin’ all of a sudden?”

“Like the fact that you threw the first punch, huh, Rick?  You-“

He ground their hands into the pavement, felt the skip of his heart as Shane winced in pain.  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  Of all people, they were never supposed to hurt each other. 

“And turnin’ that bike over on me, what exactly was that?”  Quick, before he could think, close slow himself and maybe ruin it, he reached down and pulled his knife, flipped it open before pushing the blade into Shane’s hand so hard it hurt.  He took Shane’s wrist in a bruising grip, settled his weight just a little harder onto Shane’s hips again before he pressed that hand to his throat.  For just one second he wondered, the bite of cold steel against his bare throat calling up every way this could end so bad, every way it might prove that he was wrong after all, that Shane was beyond his reach.  Maybe, maybe he was, and maybe that was half of why he’d pulled the knife anyway because if he was wrong, if he couldn’t talk Shane down from this, he wasn’t sure this world was something he wanted to live in anymore.  If they’d lost this, everything else couldn’t be far behind. 

Shane’s eyes flickered just a little wider, his fingers nearly opening on the hilt until Rick let go of his wrist and crushed Shane’s fist together instead, fingers chaotically tangled together around the knife. 

“You listen to me; you wanna kill me, Shane, you do it like this.  You look me in the eye; you owe me that much.  So you wanna do it, you go on and do it, go on, you think you can do a better job than me, think you can run the group that _I_ saved, think Hershel’s gonna deal with you, after all you’ve done?  You wanted this, you do it.”  Shane’s eyes were a picture of rage and Rick watched them flicker with it, watched and let everything else fade away.  He was reduced to points of sensation, the cold bite of metal and the heavy heat of Shane between his thighs and the sound of his breathing and even those faded, left just those eyes boring into Rick’s, burning, right up until he could feel Shane’s breath hitch, his eyes tearing away just as his hand tried to do the same, to break out of Rick’s grip and pull away.

“ _Fuck_ you.”  Even the bitter bite of those words couldn’t sting too much, not that low, not with Shane trying his best to pull away from the knife Rick kept holding in his hand. 

“Go on, get it out.” 

“It doesn’t even matter, Rick, it doesn’t matter that I can’t kill you because you know, it’d be better if I could, be better if I could get this shit over and done with because you’re gonna kill us all and I’m gonna have to watch it.  I’m gonna see you go down one way or the other and I’d sure as hell rather it was right here, right now; better than me seein’ you, than _Carl_ seein’ you shot by some damn yankee or torn apart by a walker, all cause you couldn’t stop your fuckin’ bleeding heart.” 

“So you want me dead?”

“I want you to fucking grow a pair, man, I-“

Rick jerked the knife away, slammed it to the pavement so he could pin Shane’s wrist again.  He wasn’t fighting him anymore, not with anything but the venom in his voice and he was still hard, still right there with his throat nearly bared and in so many ways, it could have been a dozen other afternoons

“Answer the damn question, Shane.  D’you want me dead?” 

His knuckles were starting to throb from the punches and he could feel blood drying on his skin, Shane’s and his own.  In the silence he could hear Randall crawling on the other side of the bus, scraping his way across the asphalt and each pant ticked by a second of time, one second longer that Shane was wasting in hesitation, eyes half closed and just breathing, breathing and matching Rick’s moves every time he so much as resettled his weight.  It was so slow it couldn’t even count as friction and yet Rick ached with it, with the urge to have this over and done. 

At the best of times kissing Shane could still turn into a controlled kind of wreck but right then, both their lips split and bloody, it was a disaster.  The kiss was violent and slick, over too quick and not half as good as it could’ve been, as it _should’ve_ been, but he broke it off to dig his teeth into Shane’s vulnerable neck.  They’d marked each other before, sucked bruises onto even visible skin and let others think what they would, think it was theirs or someone else’s, but this was different.  He did suck at his skin, didn’t swirl his tongue across the center or cup Shane’s cheek in his hand to tilt his head just a little more comfortably.  This was all animal, all rage and desire and hate and love, a frantic fire lit by everything unsaid in Shane’s silence.  They weren’t done, not yet, not unless they wanted to be.  They could still go home, if they went back together. 

He tasted blood and Shane writhed against him, didn’t even try to pull his neck away but arched into Rick’s teeth instead.  He could feel the vibration of Shane’s moan down to his bones and he took a chance, let go of Shane’s wrists.  There was nothing more at first, just labored breath and the soft, wet slide of his own tongue, probing the wound with a gentleness that surprised even him before easing back between his lips.  The mark would be clear, harsh and undeniable and satisfying, and even still uncertain, something in Rick’s chest couldn’t help but purr a little at the thought.  Even if it only lasted for a day, for an hour, for the next ten minutes before they beat each other to shit again, Shane was his. 

He rolled his hips, came forward until he could brace his arms on the pavement, the sharp sensation of the slight pain in his forearms distracting him long enough that he could find a rhythm with his hips, quick thrusts that Shane returned with just as much fervor.  His hands found Rick’s back, nails sharp and clawing as he tried violently to draw Rick just a little closer.  Rick’s cock throbbed, impatient, and his mind flashed unbidden back to high school, to moonlight through his bedroom window and the two of them half dressed, Shane’s thigh warm and strong between Rick’s legs as they kissed.  He’d come like that, jeans still on, Shane’s name on his lips.  Sometimes, friction is enough, sometimes need made it enough because he was close to it then he knew, so close to coming, to giving something over to Shane he can’t get back in the hopes that maybe it just might hold them together. 

From beneath him Shane kept up, equally frantic, and when he groaned and came his eyes closed, neck still bared to Rick as he turned his head, resting, tension bleeding from his frame in a way that Rick could feel.  He didn’t let up, took the last few thrusts he needed and took Shane’s mouth in a slightly more organized kiss, his head spinning as the taste of Shane on his tongue drew the shocks of pleasure out just a little longer.  They were a mess, tangled limbs and glass and blood and heat, and still Rick could have stayed lost in it, stayed there until the scrape of Randall across the pavement had stopped if he hadn’t heard Shane’s voice. 

“No.” 

“No?” 

Shane’s right hand fisted in the back of his shirt, twisting as he held on.  “No.  But if you get us killed, I swear to God I-“

It wasn’t a punch, not really, but his palm connected with Shane’s chin pretty hard, just enough to shut his mouth without making him too much bite the fuck out of his tongue.  He quieted under Rick’s hands, he almost always did, and when Rick spoke up it was just a little louder, just a little more level. 

“If we’re both goin’ back, this is how it’s gonna be.  You’re gonna listen to me, and if I say we leave him here, we leave him here.  If I say we take him back until we got a better idea of what he knows, then you’re gonna walk around the side of this bus and make sure his hands are still tied, cause we can’t be doin’ this, you and me.  It’s gotta be decided right now, so unless you want that knife back, we’re gonna get up, collect our prisoner, and go home.”  They couldn’t be the same anymore, not like it was before when it didn’t really matter who was in control and who wasn’t, didn’t make a damn bit of difference if Shane took the lead this week when he knew he’d get to do it the next.  This was war, this was survival, and he’d prove he could do it, one way or the other. 

Shane turned his head, spit what looked like mostly blood out onto the asphalt. 

“You gonna let me up?  We’re wastin’ daylight out here.” 


End file.
